


You Want It Darker

by discopigs



Series: Primrose Goode [2]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-09-13 00:57:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16882599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discopigs/pseuds/discopigs
Summary: "𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲,𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞.𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠,𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐱 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞.𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬,𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦.𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫,𝐖𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞..."*A sequel to The Garden*





	1. prologue; emily's baby

"I was beginning to think you might never visit her."

Michael took tentative steps towards the cradle; the mobile that hung from the ceiling was playing a soft lullaby, lulling the infant into slumber.

"Maybe I'm scared."

Ms Mead quirked an eyebrow.

"Forgive me for speaking out of turn sir, but why would the son of satan be afraid of a little girl?"

He reached out to touch the baby's cheek, but pulled away at the last moment. He took one long, last look at her before shaking his head sadly, and pulling the thin curtain around the bassinet, obscuring the baby from his view.

"Perhaps I'm afraid of what I'll do to her."


	2. chapter one; primrose langdon

_"Come on, you can do this. I know you can."_

_There was a woman, panting madly, sweat pouring from her brow. She was screaming frantically, hunched over in pain on the bed, her friends and family at her side._

_"Almost there, I just need one more great big push, okay?"_

_The woman screamed again until she could scream no more, and a newborn infant was held aloft._

_"Oh, Delia! No!"_

-

"Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead!"

Primrose groaned and covered her head with the duvet. "Please, Ms. Mead. Just five more minutes..."

Ms. Mead tutted. "Come on, Missy. Time to get up."

Primrose whined from underneath the sheets; to put it plainly, she was exhausted. Sleep seemed to be evading her lately, but for that she was glad. When the sleep came, it brought the nightmares with it.

Such strange, twisted and indecipherable visions that had tormented her ever since she was a child. Too cohesive and too vivid to be mere dreams. They played out like scenes in a movie, they seemed rehearsed, as though they had happened before. They unnerved her to no end.

Last night, she had dreamt of a woman in the throes of childbirth, and it had been painful and bloody. Her screams were haunting, like a memory...

So yes, the dreams she could live without. But the alternative of tossing and turning in bed all night was not so pleasant either.

"I have something for you." Ms. Mead said, trying to entice the young girl out of bed.

Primrose poked her head out of the blankets. "What is it?"

Ms. Mead waved a package wrapped in brown paper in her hand. "A gift."

She smiled as Primrose shot up out of bed, suddenly awake and alert. "I knew that would work on you." She laughed.

Primrose excitedly tore open the parcel, carelessly shredding the wrapping. "It's a journal!" She exclaimed, running her fingers across its surface. It was a brown, moleskin journal, with unlined pages. It had a lock with a small gold key in it that was attached to a soft, suede rope that lay across the cover.

"It's beautiful, but what's it for?" The young girl inquired.

"It's a few weeks early but just consider it an early birthday gift from your custodian." She replied. "I told him how much you enjoyed reading the classics, so he thought perhaps you could write some stories of your own."

"Ah, they're much more than mere stories, Ms. Mead." Primrose smiled. "I don't suppose our lord and master will be gracing us with his presence this time around, will he? Eighteen is quite the milestone. But then again, so was sixteen. And 13, and the rest. If he wasn't big on milestones then, I don't suppose he will be now, will he?" She laughed, bitterly.

"He does care for you." Ms. Mead reassured her.

"Then why is it I'm not allowed to meet him?" She asked.

"Our leader has been handed the monumental task of rebuilding the world," Ms. Mead exasperated. "He doesn't exactly have time for child-rearing."

"If having me as a ward is so unimportant, so inconsequential on his world domination to-do list, that he does not even feel compelled to come and see me, surely I can tell my friends who I really am without consequence?" Primrose pouted with her hands on her hips.

Ms. Mead sighed heavily; this was not their first time having this particular argument.

"You cannot tell anyone he is your guardian for safety reasons. A lot of people are... displeased, shall we say, with our leader right now, and they could potentially take it out on you. It's best that only a select few staff should know. Also, friends? The only friend you have is that snot-nosed rich boy, and I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him, or his father, for that matter."

"Julien's not that bad." Primrose weakly replied.

"And hell is just a sauna." The older woman snorted. "Anyhow, stop being so ungrateful. We all owe everything we have to our leader, you especially. All these gifts he bestows upon you."

"All the more baffling as to why he cannot simply visit me."

Primrose could tell from the look on Ms. Mead's face that she was testing her patience and decided to drop the subject.

"Look, I'm getting up, okay? Don't get your wires in a twist." She laughed, rubbing her tired eyes and throwing the covers aside.

"I am happy to hear that you've decided to rejoin the land of the living." Ms. Mead approached the carved, oak wardrobe and pulled out a pretty blue day dress for Prim to wear. "It's been a while since you left level nine, I think a change of scenery will do you the world of good."

Primrose sighed at the prospect of enduring social interaction on level eight; the people there were so rude and entitled. They were handpicked to repopulate the earth because they were cunning and ruthless. They knew, somehow, that Primrose was different and they shunned her for it. The only person who paid her any mind was Julien, and even then she couldn't shake the feeling that it was only because of her mystique that he felt compelled to talk to her.

To many people, Primrose was a mystery wrapped in an enigma; a puzzle waiting to be solved. How they hoped to do that when she didn't even have all the pieces herself, she wasn't sure.

She knew that she was an orphan, but she didn't know how. She did not even know who her parents were. She knew that her last name (which she was forbidden to reveal) was Langdon, as given to her by her guardian, the leader. She knew that he was very powerful and important. What someone like him wanted with someone like her, she had yet to discover.

"A world of good? No such thing, Ms. Mead."

There was a knock at the door and Ms. Mead yelled for whoever was on the other side to come in.

It was Etu, one of the sanctuary's many servants. Primrose bid him good morning, despite Ms. Mead's disapproval of her acquaintance with him. Etu shot her a small smile before nervously scurrying to the bathroom to change the towels.

Etu was one of the few people Primrose genuinely liked; while she was friends with Julien, she wasn't sure that their relationship could be considered 'genuine' when she was hiding her true identity from him, and Ms. Mead technically did not fall under the category of 'people'.

In short, he was a rarity. In this strange new world, it wasn't exactly a common occurrence to come across someone as good-natured and innocent as him. He was an anxious individual, to the point where he often could not make eye contact, and he was unfortunately afflicted by facial tics. His face would literally spasm when someone raised their voice. Prim put it down to the terrible conditions the servants were kept in, abused and beaten from birth, living out their entire lives in degrading servitude.

But still, there was something special about Etu that she liked, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Prim?"

Her train of thought was interrupted by Ms. Mead informing her that her outfit was laid out and ready to be put on.

Yawning, she lifted her thin white nightgown, exposing her bare body to the world. Being naked in front of Ms. Mead was not a new thing, the woman had raised her, after all. However, with Ms. Mead's interruption, she had forgotten Etu's presence in the bathroom.

"Oh!" Primrose gasped as the bathroom door opened and Etu's eyes went wide at the sight he was met with.

"Oh, you scoundrel! You pervert!"

Primrose couldn't help but laugh at Ms. Mead's outrage, the older woman smacking the poor servant as he hurried toward the door.

"You come here again and I'll have you thrown to the cannibals!" Ms. Mead shouted as she slammed the door in his face.

"It's okay, Ms. Mead." She giggled, impishly. "Etu's harmless."

Ms. Mead tutted and shook her head. "You don't go baring yourself like that for servant boys. You save that for your special somebody."

"Somebody like Julien?"

At this remark, they both burst out with laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> author's note; okay so the direction for this story is a bit different to what i think ppl were expecting but just bear w me folks! we have some stuff to unpack lol (also primrose ages normally in the fic fyi bc i mean number one this primrose is not the immaculately conceived daughter of the most powerful witch on earth, shes some boring ppls kid ((sorry not sorry emily and timothy)) and also number two if she only took 7 years to mature then michael would still be like 18 or something and i just found it too weird to write about so die mad about it lmao)


	3. chapter two; the leader

Primrose observed her reflection in the mirror; on days spent alone, she preferred to wear her hair down naturally, but today she would (unfortunately) be in the presence of company, so the occasion called for something different. Her hair was piled up on top of her head, neatly and beautifully, on her cheeks and lips she wore a light rouge. It was highly important that she should look just like any other level eight survivor; they already disliked her enough, there was no point giving them any more ammunition.

It was best that she should fly under the radar, be average and unnoticed.

And for someone like Primrose Langdon, that was easier said than done.

She got up from her dressing table, and left the safe confines of her bedroom.

Her room was located on level nine, otherwise known as the secret floor. The floor that was off limits to everyone, with the exception of a select few. And Primrose was one of those few.

There was a rumour that Julien had relayed to her over dinner about the secret floor supposedly being home to the king of hell, and his secret princess.

Prim wasn't quite sure what she thought about that.

She reached the end of the candlelit hallway and stepped into the elevator, selecting the button that read 'level eight'.

-

"Ah, there's my favourite girl!"

Primrose's eyes scanned the rows of intricately and elegantly decorated wooden oak tables, until her eyes fell upon the figure of Julien, who was calling her name and waving her over. Smoothing out the skirt of her dress, she went to greet him.

"Come! Sit!" He excitedly exclaimed, motioning to the seat next to him. Sitting down at his side, Julien placed a chaste kiss to her cheek. Primrose awkwardly flashed him a smile.

"It seems like such a long time since we last met, and I only ever seem to see you here in the hall, never anywhere else on level eight." He narrowed his eyes at her, awaiting a response.

Before Prim could make a lame excuse for her absence, a passing servant tripped, seemingly over nothing, sending the steaming hot coffee he was carrying flying, directly into Julien's lap.

Primrose tried to contain her laughter as he exhaled sharply and contorted his face with pain. Julien turned his attention to the unfortunate servant, who, to Prim's sudden displeasure, was the unfortunate Etu.

"Are you blind as well as stupid? Why don't you pay attention to where you're going!" Julien barked; Etu's face began to spasm with the shame.

"Julien, leave him alone. It was an accident." Primrose came to his defence, shooting the poor boy a reassuring smile.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Just get out of my sight!"

Etu bowed and nervously apologised, gathering the fallen china from the floor and hurrying away into the kitchen.

"This place is such a shambles, somebody ought to just blow the whole thing up and start from scratch." Julien sulkily dabbed at the damp patch on his crotch with a napkin from the table.

"I believe it was thinking like that which got us into this situation in the first place." Primrose replied.

"It was that brain dead, so called 'leader' that got us into this mess." Julien spoke in a low voice, for fear that someone might hear him. While Julien's opinion was not uncommon, it was still controversial to express it freely. "I mean the guy decimates the earth, promises a new and improved world order, and then just vanishes. They oughta get somebody else in charge."

"Somebody like your father?" Primrose tried to disguise the venom in her voice.

"Perhaps." Julien merely shrugged, indicating he did not notice the malice in her words.

"Besides, he hasn't  _vanished_." Though Primrose had not met her guardian, she still inexplicably felt the need to defend his honor. "He has business at the other ten sanctuaries across the globe."

Julien scoffed. "That's what they want you to believe. My father knows him, and he says he's just a mess."

"Your father used to manufacture sex dolls, forgive me if I don't entirely trust his opinion on our leader." She laughed; Julien's features softened at her playful remark.

"Ah, but at least I had the guts to tell you who my father is! We've been friends for however many years now, and I still don't really know who you are!"

"What's life without a little mystery?" She deflected.

"Speaking of mystery," Julien leaned in closer. "You had any more of those freaky dreams of yours?"

Primrose nodded solemnly. "I... I dreamt about this woman."

"Go on," Julien encouraged her, eagerly; he always seemed to enjoy hearing about her visions.

"She was... she was in labour... she was in so much pain, Julien." Primrose hung her head, sadly.

"Dreaming about moms and childbirth, I wonder what Freud would make of that?" He remarked.

"No, this is serious." She scolded him. "I think... I think it might've been my mother."

Julien looked at her, his face the picture of confusion.

"Let's just say... I don't know a lot about my parents."

Julien snorted. "Join the club. The wealthy elite aren't exactly renowned for their emotional intimacy and warmth."

Primrose huffed and rose from her chair. "Okay, if you're not going to take this seriously..."

Julien grabbed her hand to stop her from leaving.

"I'm sorry," he said, tugging on her arm to get her to sit back down. "If the dream has bothered you this much, then I'll do whatever I can to help. Maybe we can find out some more about your parents... together."

He looked into her eyes, and despite her better judgement, she felt that his gesture was genuine. 

"Okay. Let's do it."


	4. chapter three; fire in the brain

After talking to Julien and spending most of the day wandering level eight, Primrose retreated to her private quarters on level nine, exhausted and weary from the tireless squabbling of the rich. After enduring their prattle for so long, all Prim wanted was a good night's sleep to refresh and revive her, but alas; such things are easier said than done.

Dressed in her usual thin, white nightgown, Prim retired for the evening into the soft comforting blankets of her four-poster bed. At the other end of her room, the fire was crackling quietly, only a few faint embers still burning in its grate.

Bathed in the warm glow of the fire, the heat it was emanating soothing on her skin, Primrose soon found herself drifting off to sleep.

-

_There was a small girl, she did not look any older than five, clinging to her mother's side. The woman was dressed all in black, her blonde hair shining in the midday sun. With her beauty and her grace, she looked as though she were of royal blood._

_She was leading a pack of women, all adorned in the same color as her, and they too carried themselves with confidence and power; all of them bar one._

_A woman with mousy brown hair and bloodshot eyes lagged behind the rest of the group, looking as though she was barely holding back tears._

_Two albino men in smart, black suits carried cans of gasoline and set them beside a large wooden stake. The little girl's eyes widened as she took in the appearance of the man that was tied to it._

_"Please don't do this!" The man cried. "I-i can take you to the body, maybe you can still bring her back."_

_The tears were now falling freely from the brown-haired woman's face as she shook her head sadly._

_"Please, Zoe. I love you."_

_Watching the blonde haired man, who was so desperately bargaining for his life, the little girl did not want to watch, but could not tear her eyes away either._

_"Enough!" The blonde woman declared._

_"You have been charged with the murder of one of our sisters, Madison Montgomery, one of the very women you swore to protect as a defender and servant of this coven."_

_"I was trying to protect the coven! She refused to bring Zoe back!" He countered._

_"Your crimes are inexcusable. I hereby sentence you to death by fire."_

_The man began to cry as the woman, Zoe, procured a box of matches from her pocket. The suited men poured gasoline all over his skin and clothing. The little girl wrinkled her nose at the smell._

_"I'm so sorry, Kyle." Zoe sobbed, striking the match._

-

Primrose lurched forward in her bed; her skin was burning and her ears were ringing from screaming she did not yet register as her own.

The fear coursing through her body intensified when she saw that the fire was still burning in the fireplace, taunting her.

She clenched the bed sheets within her fists and watched as it suddenly erupted into a towering inferno.

-

The next morning, Primrose sat upon the blush bedding in her room, biting her nails nervously. Ms. Mead had just come in to wake her as usual and was pottering around getting things ready for her, doing her duties.

Primrose stopped to wonder why Ms. Mead specifically was in her life. The woman had practically raised her, but for what reason? Though she didn't know much of Mead's history, she couldn't picture her doing this for someone else, some other child.

And she was a robot, which was hardly common. Who built her, and why?

Primrose found that she was filled with questions, but in asking them she never received her answers. Only more and more uncertainties.

But this morning she was determined to get what she wanted this time.

"Ms. Mead?" She asked, her voice quiet and cautious.

"Mmmhmm?" Mead barely acknowledged her as she laid out Prim's clothes for her on the table.

"I need your help with something."

Ms. Mead turned to look at her; now that had got her attention.

"My help? With what, child?"

Primrose twiddled her thumbs, anxiously. "I've been having these dreams..."

"Yes?" She prompted.

"Yes," Prim continued. "And... and they feel really real. Like, really really real."

Ms. Mead sat down at the end of the young girl's bed to listen.

"Like they might've happened before." Primrose spoke so quietly, her voice was almost a whisper.

"I'm sorry to hear that, girl." She sighed. "But I'm not entirely sure what you would like me to do about it."

"It's not just the dreams though, Ms. Mead. Last night, after one of my nightmares, I was filled with so much fright that the fireplace erupted with flames and smoke. It was as though I had stoked the fire with my mind!" Primrose exclaimed.

"And I know you must think me mad, but it's happened more than once. Strange things, things I cannot explain, they always seem to follow me. And... and I need to do something about it before I lose my mind."

Primrose watched Ms. Mead's reaction carefully. She could reject her ideas, humiliate her, send her away to be examined, or worse, simply ignore her.

Ms. Mead's head fell to her hands with resignation. "I thought this day might come."

That had certainly caught Prim off guard; did Ms. Mead know about these strange occurrences all along?

"It's gonna be okay," She assured her with a steady smile, turning to leave. "I... I'm going to send for a man, he will help you."

"No!" Primrose cried out. "I'm not mad, I promise!"

"Quit your yelling!" Ms. Mead chided her. "I'm not sending for a psychiatrist."

Primrose narrowed her eyes at the older woman. "Then who?"

"There's a man..." Ms. Mead explained, evasively. "He's like you."

"And he can help you."


	5. chapter four; afterbirth

Standing in the elevator with Julien, Primrose pondered Ms. Mead's words from earlier; what had she meant by 'a man like you'?

Primrose had never really met anyone like herself, she always felt like an outcast, like she was much too different, too unusual for the world. The people of the sanctuary were harsh and cruel, something Primrose didn't feel capable of.

Perhaps that's why she was drawn to Etu, because she saw something similar in him? Perhaps they were kindred spirits, of sorts.

Though of course, it seemed far more likely that Ms. Mead was simply referring to the fireplace incident, but Prim had yet to decide in her mind what kind of person would be capable of that.

Nonetheless, the concept of this mystery man Ms. Mead was sending to her, with as yet undefined similarities, was a confounding yet admittedly exciting one. Primrose had always been quite lonely too, she relished the idea of new company.

Putting the matter to one side, Prim selected level one on the elevator.

"So what exactly is our plan?" Julien enquired.

"We need to go to level one to talk to Etu, he can help us sneak into the medical ward on level two. I know which midwife delivered me because of my birth certificate," Primrose held the paper aloft in her hand for emphasis; it was a faded yellow color, stating her first name (her last name left blank for security measures), the nurse who delivered her, her gender and weight, but the space allotted for the names of her parents was empty. "If I can find her, I can ask her what I need to know."

"Which is?"

Completing her mission while keeping Julien in the dark was going to be difficult, but she had to persevere; her identity was secret for a reason, and the uncertainty meant she couldn't be sure who to trust.

"That's on a need-to-know basis." She evasively replied.

The ding of the elevator signaled that they had reached their destination, level one.

Level one was still underground like the rest of the sanctuary, but it was the level closest to the surface. In theory, the closer you are to the overground, the more susceptible you are to radiation poisoning and cannibal attacks, which is why level one was occupied by staff and servants; their lives were seen as less valuable and more expendable.

Primrose took Julien by the hand, knowing exactly where to go. It wasn't her first time on level one, she would often sneak food from level eight to Etu's room, aware that resources were not distributed equally between the servants and the rich.

The halls were narrow, and the rooms cramped and in disarray, the wails of mistreated children reverberated around the corridor; a far cry from the living arrangements Julien was used to.

"God, Prim. Why are we doing this? Consorting with the help. Yuck." Julien looked down his nose at a passing child, dressed in rags and carrying an assortment of empty serving trays.

"Don't be such a yuppie." She scoffed.

"A whattie?"

Primrose rolled her eyes. "Never mind."

Finally they reached Etu's room and she knocked twice upon the door before letting herself in.

Etu practically jumped out of his skin at the intrusion.

"It's okay, it's just me." Primrose spoke calmly. "I brought a friend."

She gestured for Julien to introduce himself but the boy merely scoffed and turned away, lingering in the doorway.

Etu's eyes were transfixed upon the floor, too nervous to make eye contact with the intruders in his room.

"We need your help with something."

-

"I cannot believe we are doing this." Julien grumbled, looking down at his borrowed blue uniform; with Etu's help, they were attempting to blend in with the other doctors on the maternity ward of level two.

"I understand how difficult and debasing it must be for you to have to pretend to be a normal human being for once, but just know that I value your effort." Primrose playfully replied, her voice slightly muffled through the surgical mask.

"I-i will b-be in s-so much trouble i-if we get c-caught." Etu stuttered as he trailed behind them down the corridor, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching them.

Primrose approached the whiteboard marked with the names of all staff on shift and scanned the names for the person she needed.

"Aha!" She exclaimed, tapping her forefinger on the third name down. "Julien, stay here and keep a lookout while Etu and I go check in here." Primrose grabbed the shaking servant boy by the hand and pulled him into a nearby hospital room.

The room was cold and quiet, an elderly woman was tiredly arranging the sheets on the hospital bed.

"A-are you Nurse Goldman?" Primrose asked, nervously.

"Who's asking?" The old woman shot back with narrowed eyes.

"It is you, isn't it?" Primrose's eyes gazed upon her weary and elderly form. "I can't believe you're still here."

"You stop working, you stop being useful, and when you stop being useful, they stop you breathing." The nurse cynically replied.

Prim gulped at the woman's terse words.

"Now, what is it you want? I'm a very busy woman." She said, aggressively fluffing the pillows on the bed.

Primrose took a tentative step forward and handed the nurse her birth certificate. "Is it true that you delivered me as a baby?"

Nurse Goldman hesitated before snatching the piece of paper from the young girl's grip, eyes scanning over the document briefly. "Yes, that is true."

"Then... do you know what happened to my parents?"

Nurse Goldman sighed. "No one does, dear. I assisted your mother in bringing you into this world, placed you as a babe into her arms, and then attended to other duties on the ward. When I returned, you and your parents were gone. All I was told was your parents had been 'terminated', and that you were to become the ward of the leader."

Primrose felt the bile rising in her throat; she knew her parents were dead, but the idea that they had been murdered mere moments after her birth was quite difficult to stomach.

Primrose grabbed a shaking Etu by the arm and pulled him out of the room and back onto the ward where Julien stood waiting.

"Terminated, what the fuck does terminated mean? And terminated for what? Do you think the leader murdered my parents?"

Etu merely shrugged.

"Julien, your father works in robotics, correct?"

Julien nodded in confirmation.

"I have a favor to ask."

-

After Etu had returned to level one to prepare for his shift, Julien had asked if she would like to join him for dinner on level eight, an invitation she politely declined; still reeling from her discovery, she couldn't summon the strength to eat just yet. She had left for level nine as soon as Julien was out of sight, going straight for her bedroom and slamming the door shut.

Emotionally exhausted, she had undressed right away and put on a short nightgown and thin robe. As she changed into her nightwear, she absent-mindedly noticed that the large grandfather clock at the far end of her room had failed to chime as the small hand reached the number twelve.

Nevertheless, it was only a small distraction from the pain that Primrose was experiencing.

Prim had always assumed that some terrible accident must've befallen her birth parents, and that's why the leader took her in. Now it seemed that there could be more insidious motives involved...

She sat huddled in the corner of her room, crying silently to herself when she heard a tentative knock at the door.

"Ms. Mead, can it wait? I'm a little busy." Primrose sighed. She was perturbed when Ms. Mead did not answer; instead, the visitor knocked the door again, twice; the knock louder and more persistent this time.

Primrose approached the door, and cautiously turned the handle, pulling the door towards her until it was open, revealing to her the caller on the other side.

"Hello, Prim."


	6. chapter five; inkubus sukkubus

_"Give yourself over to absolute pleasure_  
_Swim the warm waters of sins of the flesh_  
 _Erotic nightmares beyond any measure_  
 _And sensual daydreams to treasure forever."_

_-The Rocky Horror Picture Show._

 

-

 

"You're... you're him." She shakily exhaled.

"Did Ms. Mead not forewarn you of my arrival?"

"She told me you were coming, but she neglected to say when." Primrose nervously tied the cord of her robe around her waist tighter. "I do apologize, I wasn't exactly expecting company."

"Not at all, I apologize for intruding. I can always come back another time...?"

"No!" She exclaimed, a little too eagerly. "It's fine. Come in."

Entering the room, his black velvet cloak encircled his lithe yet imposing form gracefully, his flaxen hair stopped just below his shoulders and framed his face in a near-angelic manner. Primrose could feel herself going weak at the knees; this man, this stranger, looked every bit as beautiful as the men she'd only ever read about in books before.

She motioned to the chair at her writing desk. "Please sit, Mr...?"

"You may address me as 'sir'." He spoke cooly as he sat upon the desk chair.

"Sir." She corrected herself.

"Ms. Mead tells me you've been experiencing some, shall we say... indefinable phenomena."

Primrose nodded. "I'm not really sure how to explain it."

"She told me that you can manipulate fire with your mind."

"You think I'm crazy?"

He smiled at her, an indecipherable sly smile that she wasn't sure how to interpret. Not even glancing over his shoulder to look at what he was doing, the stone cold grate of the fireplace in the corner immediately erupted into flames with a mere flick of his wrist.

"I think you're just as sane as I am."

Primrose took a step back from him, cautiously.

"I'm not here to debate the thematics of what is and isn't considered normal, Prim. Because I think we both know that we aren't normal; we're special. We are beyond scientific understanding. We do not adhere to the laws of nature, we create our own."

He paused briefly, a contemplative look appearing on his face only briefly before continuing.

"What I would like to know is what prompted this... awakening. What motivated you to stoke that fire?"

Primrose tilted her head to the side, inquisitively. "What do you mean?"

"Was it anger, lust...?"

"Fear."

"Fear?"

"I was frightened." She quietly admitted.

He leaned in closer. "What are you scared of, Prim?"

"The things I see in dreams."

He looked as though he was going to reach out and touch her, but he seemingly stopped himself at the last minute. "What do you see?"

"People dying."

"People you love?"

"Huh?"

"Who's dying? Which people, Prim?" He pressed her for an answer.

"I-i don't know. Why does it matter?" She asked, defensively.

Standing up, he clasped his hands behind his back as he approached the fire that had now receded into a dull ember and stared into the heart of it.

"To stand beside the fire, to feel its warmth spread across your skin. To take shelter in its glow, the only source of heat in a world that is so very very cold. We revel in it. But stand too close and the fire will consume you. Burn you until there's nothing left. We have two choices; we can either stoke the fire, or we kill the flame."

"So... you're here to teach me? You're going to teach me how to control it?" Primrose said.

He shrugged. "Among other things."

"But I doubt we'll get much done at this hour, certainly not with you in this... state." His eyes ran up and down her body, reminding her of how little she had on. The way he was looking at her, part of her wished he would just tear the thin robe off.

 _Wow_ , Primrose thought to herself.  _Where did that come from?_

"This is merely an introduction. I'm sure we'll get to know each other quite well soon enough." He smiled as he stood up to leave.

"Well, I can't begin to tell you what this means to me." She said, her sincerity seeming to throw him off slightly, as though he hadn't heard someone be so genuine in a long time. "Honestly, I felt quite scared and alone. Knowing there's someone else out there... I feel a lot better."

She held out her hand to shake his, and she noticed him hesitate before accepting, tentatively.

It was the lightest of touches and yet it felt like a firework going off inside her; she felt her heart race, and her stomach flip. Touching him felt like touching live wires; sparks of electricity shot through her system with all the speed and ferocity of a rain of bullets.

People say that just before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. That's how it felt when he took her hand; like a whole life was unfolding before her, but it wasn't her own. It was a life long gone, yet short-lived. His touch bestowed her mind with visions, an incredible display of phantasmagoria. They were as epic as the Odyssey and as tragic as Shakespeare; they were filled with magic and lust, two things Primrose Langdon had always desired and had never managed to attain.

It was then that Primrose Langdon decided she liked the touch of this man and vowed that there would be more, more touching and more magic and lust.

Yet she was unsure that this feeling, this raging desire, would be reciprocated. He had withdrawn from the handshake abruptly, seemingly recoiling from the powerful touch.

He was a difficult man to read, and she could only guess what he feeling in that moment, but what  _wasn't_  difficult to discern was the overwhelming tension that now lay heavy in the space between him.

He reached out into the empty distance between them to take her hand again, which had since fallen to her side.

"With me, you have nothing to fear." He solidified his promise with a chaste kiss to her knuckles; Primrose used her free hand to stifle the soft gasp that escaped her lips at his gesture.

"T-thank you, sir."

He bowed his head to her slightly before leaving for the door.

"Goodnight, Prim."

-

_The clash of teeth and tongues, older hands exploring the expanse of youthful, nubile flesh spread out and displayed before him like a gift._

_Soft whimpers and faltering breaths in perfect harmony with guttural moans and predatory growls._

_She was on the precipice of slumber when she had first felt it; cool, rough palms running up her thighs, lifting her nightgown onto her stomach. She almost second-guessed her own state of consciousness until she felt his calloused fingers dip inside her white cotton panties._

_She threw back the covers to look upon her audacious lover._

_His face was chalk white and his eyes were coal black, yet she knew exactly who this brazen suitor was._

_Drinking in his demonic appearance, it briefly occurred to her that the sight of him should have horrified her, and yet it only served to arouse her further. This ungodly creature with his hand now reaching inside her, it was undeniably erotic and undeniably a nightmare._

_With his hands, he imbued her with the full weight of his affection, and with his kisses, she tasted his power._

_**"I will be the first man to kiss you... To bed you... Whether you come willingly or not. You will be mine, and mine alone. Do you understand?"** _

-

Primrose awoke from her dream with a yelp.

Her eyes frantically searched the room for any sign of the seductive intruder.

Realizing there was no one there, she quite quickly became keenly aware of the ache between her thighs.

 _Well,_  Primrose thought to herself.  _That's certainly a new development._


	7. chapter six; daydreamer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter contains; teacher kink, spanking, dirty talk, mild degradation, choking, general smut.

_He sat at his desk, engrossed in the papers he was marking, his eyebrows knitted together in deep thought. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other with impatience, whining quietly at the lack of attention._

_He looked up from his work on the desk to fix her with a steely gaze and she immediately ceased her restless behavior; she knew what that look was._

_It was a warning._

_"Is something the matter, Primrose?" He asked, his outwardly calm appearance a mere facade._

_"No." She mumbled, fiddling with the hem of her dangerously short plaid skirt._

_"Excuse me?"_

_"No, sir." She quickly corrected herself._

_The smallest of smiles played upon his lips at her obedient response. "That's better."_

_His eyes still firmly upon her, he sat up from his chair at the desk and handed her the paper he had just finished marking._

_"But your grades aren't."_

_She felt her heart sink at the sight of the low mark he had given her; this simply wouldn't do!_

_And then it occurred to her._

_Her terrible grades... her uncontrollable desire for him..._

_Perhaps those were two birds that could be killed with one stone._

_Turning on her charm, she carelessly tossed the paper behind her, not particularly caring where it landed. Flirtatiously, she lay one hand flat against his chest while the other tugged at his tie._

_"Perhaps I haven't been properly motivated, sir?"_

_A long period of silence passed where he neither reciprocated nor rejected her advances, he let her words hang heavy in the air so she would have no choice but to recognize the full extent of what she had said. He knew the longer he left it, the more nervous and needy she would be. One of his favorite things about his dear student was how easy it was to discompose her._

_And he did so love to watch her squirm._

_Without warning, he spun her around and pushed her against the desk. He grabbed a fistful of her hair to expose her neck to him, and she couldn't help but moan as he tugged harshly at the root._

_"You think it's a question of motivation, do you Prim?" He spoke lowly, his breath hot on her skin. The feeling of his lips so close to her neck was so overwhelming, she wanted nothing more than for him to just bite down and mark her as his own._

_With his free hand, his fingers trailed down her body, pausing briefly to fondle her breast beneath her white button-up shirt, but their real destination was in between her legs._

_He was just about to give her what she desired when she impatiently grinded against the prominent bulge in his trousers, and his actions ceased immediately._

_She knew as soon as she had done it what was coming next, she had been pushing her luck with him already but this was to be the final straw._

_Removing her from his embrace, he shoved her forwards onto the desk, and briskly lifted up her skirt, revealing her bare bottom._

_He tutted and shook his head. "No panties? Such a bad girl."_

_She was glad her face was concealed pressed against the desk so he could not see her blush at his words._

_"You see, I don't think it's a case of motivation with you, Prim." With his palm he rubbed soft circles into the flesh of her cheek before giving it a light tap. "No, I think the real problem here is your petulance."_

_"Sir, please." She whined, wiggling her bottom in search of more contact. The light smacks were nowhere near enough, she desperately needed more._

_"Enough!" He barked._

_She yelped as his palm harshly collided with the skin of her cheek._

_"Count." He ordered._

**_Smack!_ **

_"One!"_

**_Smack!_ **

_"Two!"_

_"You little slut. You're probably enjoying this aren't you?" He teased._

**_Smack!_ **

_"Three!"_

_She could feel the wetness gathering between her legs._

**_Smack!_ **

_"Four!"_

_She groaned at the sensuality of it all, being exposed for him like this, bent over his desk, completely at his mercy and ready for him to do whatever he desires._

**_Smack!_ **

_"F-five!" She stuttered, the pain intensifying with every hit._

_There was a long pause where Prim thought perhaps five was all he was going to give her today._

_Maybe he's feeling merciful today, she thought to herself._

_And then she heard the click of his belt buckle._

_She looked over her shoulder to see him gripping his belt in one hand and smirking deviously._

_She gulped in anticipation of the rough leather against her sensitive skin._

_"Touch yourself." He commanded._

_Obediently, her hand dove into the waistband of her panties, her fingers quickly reaching the sensitive little nib as she moaned with relief._

_"That's it, just keep rubbing, sweetheart." He cooed. "And remember to keep counting."_

**_Smack!_ **

_"Six!" She cried out, the belt much more painful than his hand._

**_Smack!_ **

_"Seven!" She whimpered, her fingers quickening their pace._

_"Eight!"_

**_Smack!_ **

_"Nine!"_

_The tears were streaming down her face from a mixture of pain and pleasure, the feeling low in her belly letting her know she was close to exploding._

**_Smack!_ **

_"Ten!" She wailed. "Oh sir, I'm so close."_

_"Beg." He ordered. "Beg me to come."_

_"Please let me come sir, I need it so badly. I'll do anything, please!" She cried, knowing there was no way she could hold on much longer._

_He leaned down to press his lips against her ear, his long hair brushing against her face._

_"Come."_

_She groaned out loudly as she finally felt her release crash down on her, her whole body shaking violently with sheer pleasure._

_She whimpered quietly against the desk, basking in her afterglow as he flipped her over onto her back._

_He thought she had never looked so beautiful before now, hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, skirt bunched up around her waist, a content smile on her face._

_His hands ripped her blouse open, the buttons flying everywhere as he dipped his head to her chest to tease her breasts with his tongue._

_"Oh, sir!" She mewled as he sucked on the red bud of her nipple._

_"You were such a good girl, taking that punishment for me." She glowed under his praise, smiling madly._

_"I think it's time for your reward."_

-

"Did you hear what I just said?"

He waved his hand in front of Primrose's face to no avail.

"Prim!"

He clicked his fingers and Primrose jumped as she was brought back down to reality.

 _Great,_ Primrose thought to herself.  _Not only am I having dirty dreams about him at night, apparently I'm daydreaming about him now too._

"Oh! I-I'm sorry, sir. I wasn't thinking."

"I know." He grinned, salaciously.

"Uh... telepathy... isn't one of the seven wonders... is it?" She gulped.

"No." He laughed softly. "But I don't need to be a mind reader to know that your thoughts aren't on today's lesson."

He had been tutoring Primrose for the last few days in the magical arts, and today's session was based around the power of concillium. She had managed to mind control the chambermaid into dancing like a chicken, but now he wanted to see if she could control someone as skilled and as powerful as he.

They'd been sat crossed legged on her bed for around a quarter of an hour before Prim gave up, flopping backwards into the pillows in defeat.

"Come on, Prim." He encouraged her, pulling her forwards to face him once more. "You can do it, I know you can."

"I think you're just too strong for me." She sighed.

Grasping her hand and staring deep into her eyes he said, "Primrose, you are much stronger than you know."

"Your eyes..." She gushed, gazing into his eyes that were as blue as the pre-apocalypse sky.

Wait... when had she ever seen a blue sky?

"Prim, focus." He said, warningly.

"They seem older than the rest of you." She observed. She could feel herself getting lost under his gaze.

"Make me do your bidding."

It was this particular command that gave Primrose an idea.

"Kiss me." She commanded.

Usually, she would not dare be so bold but that was before and this was now. She needed to take the first step, just like in her daydream.

"No, Prim." His voice was firm, but it was still evident on his face that he was struggling under her magic. He tried to resist, but her power of concilium was strong.

"Please." She whispered.

As he leaned in closer, she could see the torment and the struggle behind his eyes.

There was only the smallest of spaces between their lips when suddenly her spell was broken and his hand was around her neck, squeezing tightly.

"I-i'm sorry, sir." She choked, tears escaping her eyes at the sight of his fiery expression.

She knew she shouldn't have asked him to kiss her, but she didn't know he would react in such a way.

She also had no idea she would be so turned on by it either.

The sheer power he had over her in that moment... why he could simply end her life right there and then, if he felt like it.

It was inexplicably alluring.

Then he released her from his grip, as though he had finally released what he was doing, his face somewhat calm again.

There was an awkward silence as Primrose rubbed her sore neck, her emotions are confusing mix of fear and arousal.

"I should go." He leapt up from the bed and headed for the door.

Part of her wanted to stop him, but what could she possibly say?

He hesitated as he reached for the handle. "I'm sorry, Prim."

And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, sorry for the big gap in between chapters, been super busy what with christmas and all that. i'm going away for a while this week so there's probably gonna be another big gap as well unfortunately but as soon as i'm back it'll all be back to normal hopefully! :)


	8. chapter seven; love an act of cruelty.

"So what does this teacher guy got that I don't have?"

Primrose sighed into her coffee mug; she knew that Julien was going to react badly to the news of her dirty dreams, but he'd known something was up when she revealed she'd had a nightmare-free rest the previous few nights. He'd poked and prodded her until she didn't have the strength to fight him anymore and simply gave in and told him.

"God, you talk like I  _actually_  fucked the guy!" She exclaimed a little too loudly, the other people in the dining hall looking down the table at her with a sneer.

"But clearly you want to, if he's showing up in your dreams." Julien's sister Juliet chipped in. Juliet was like most of the people on level eight, well-bred and bitchy, but she was harmless enough; true malice required a certain degree of depth, of which Juliet was somewhat lacking in.

"Whatever I do, and whoever I like is solely my business, people." Primrose fired back.

"I-i think he sounds l-lovely." Etu said, quietly.

"Nobody asked you, worm." Julien snapped, the other boy cowering at his harsh tone.

"He's got a point, Jules." Juliet said. "Older guys are hot, especially teachers."

"What is this guy even teaching you anyway?" Julien asked, eyeing Prim suspiciously.

"P-piano." She blurted out in a panic.

"Hmm, I bet you wish he'd tickle your ivories!" Juliet purred, salaciously.

"Juliet, stop!" Primrose swatted her gently on her arm. "That's not even a very good pun."

"He really lights my fire, y'know?" Primrose sighed, dreamily.

"It sounds like a case of reading too much Bronte, if you ask me." Julien scoffed.

This strange and powerful man, the man with no name, he occupied her every thought. She couldn't help but gush about him to her companions (leaving out the less appealing details, such as the demon face and the choking, of course.)

"Are you gonna go to the Halloween ball, Prim?" Julien asked, desperately trying to change the subject. "After all, Halloween your birthday, isn't it?"

"I'm not sure, I'm not really one for pomp and circumstance." She replied, grimacing at the thought of dancing amidst a sea of drunk snobs.

"You have to go!" Juliet exclaimed. "The sanctuary's best and brightest will all be in attendance, thus meaning there's a very good chance we'll meet your mysterious tutor!"

Julien sighed exasperatedly and dropped his fork onto his plate with unbridled irritation. "I'm out of here." He announced as he left the table with a typically dramatic flair. "Come and find me when you're bored of talking about Heathcliff." He sneered.

"Jeez, I didn't realize he'd be that upset." Primrose spoke, quizzically.

"G-guys like him a-aren't used to not getting w-what they w-want." Etu explained. "I-i'd be c-careful if I were y-you."

"Anyways... has anyone else been having trouble with the clocks?" Juliet casually enquired as she sipped at her wine.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. I think my grandfather clock is in need of repair, now that you mention it." Primrose replied. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just that all of mine are broken too." Juliet said.

 _Hmm_ , Primrose thought to herself.  _Curiouser and curiouser._

-

After speaking with her friends, she had never more so wished that dreams were like reality.

Primrose sat across from him on her bed once more, and here they were yet again, so close but so far away.

He had not mentioned the events of their last lesson. How she had wanted him to kiss her. How he had choked her in response.

How hot and bothered the entire ordeal had left her.

But it seemed it would not be discussed. He had marched right into the day's lesson without so much as a 'hello'. He spoke to her about telekinesis with all the formal indifference of a paid tutor; there was nothing more to it, and nothing less.

He could be so cold to her and yet she craved his warmth; he was like fire and ice, searingly beautiful but dangerous too.

His rejection would be easier to swallow were she not so sure her attraction was not unrequited; she wasn't sure how, but she just  _knew_  he felt the same way she did.

That feeling when their hands first met... it was impossible to deny.

"This book. Take it from me without using your hands." He instructed her, snapping her out of her daydream. "If you want something enough, you should reach out and take it."

"That didn't exactly work out for me last time though, did it?" She blurted out, kicking herself as sound as the words left her lips.

"Prim..." he began. "You don't... you don't want this. Trust me." He sighed as the book fell into his lap.

She dared to move forward, closer to him, resting her hand ever so gently on his lower thigh. "I do, sir. I really do."

"You think you know what you want, but you don't." He insisted as the space between them rapidly grew smaller.

"I think that I want you and you want me, and that's all either of us needs to know."

And then suddenly his lips were on hers with all the intensity and brevity of a bolt of lightning; the kiss was as beautiful as it was brief.

"Please don't run off again." She quietly pleaded with him, but it was in vain. Some inner struggle prevented him from going the full distance they both so desperately desired.

"Let me ease whatever it is that's plaguing you." She offered, their foreheads pressed together as he squeezed his eyes shut, but he could only shake his head as the tears fell.

"I can't ruin you twice, you can't ask that of me." He sobbed.

"Ruin me  _twice_? What do you mean?"

He hesitated before answering. "Would you believe me if I told you we had met before? Only not in this life, of course."

"There is someone bleeding to death inside me," she said. "And you know who it is."

Primrose grew annoyed at the heavy silence that followed. "Why is it you create more questions that you answer? Why do you stir such feelings and then refuse to acknowledge them!"

"Because I am not the man you so deserve and desire! I am not the gallant hero from your romance novels, I am the villain!" He shot back, his eyes ablaze with fury. "The monster under your bed, the foe of your childhood nightmares! I am not a man you could ever, ever love!"

"Insecurity is no reason to treat me this way!" She tearfully replied.

"I do all this because who could ever love a monster?" He sighed with absolute resolution. She could see that she would not change his mind, but she had to at least try.

"Perhaps I want the monster. Perhaps I crave it. Perhaps the biggest mistake the last time we supposedly met was never asking me what  _I_  want and making all my decisions for me."

"I'm sorry Primrose, but I love you too much to destroy you again."

-

How Primrose wept and wept that night. Damn that man! How dare he inflame her in such a way and then gallantly refuse to do anything about it!

She decided then that she deemed his love an act of cruelty, and set about inflicting her own personal retribution. She would never hurt him, of course, but if he was truly going to make her a victim of her own desire, then she would not suffer alone. He would have to sit down shut up and listen to her every tale of woe.

But where to find him?

She threw back the covers and reached for the magick book he had left her, landing on a page about transmutation...


	9. chapter eight; satyr satisfies nymph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING, THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS; semi rough sex, graphic depiction of self mutilation, satanism. basically everything that is a sin lmao.

"O father, thou who art in hell!"

Primrose stood concealed in the corner, transfixed upon her tutor in a state of shock.

"Give me strength, father!"

The room illuminated entirely by candles, their soft glow perfectly highlighting the contours of his fully naked body.

"Strength to resist the wicked temptation of her heavenly, nubile flesh!"

He rested wearily upon his knees, the floor soaked in his own blood. Primrose could barely process the sight before her as something that was actually happening.

He looked at up in awe.

"Persistent little thing, aren't you?"

How on earth had she got herself into this situation?

Only a few moments prior she was safely within her room, reading the magick book's entry on transmutation. It had read:

_The art of transmutation is an ability dependent on the mind and sheer strength of will. Picture yourself in the spot you desire, and with the essence of your being you must call out to it, and let your soul lead you there._

Primrose didn't have a specific place in mind, she just knew that wherever he was, she wanted to be too.

In hindsight, it might've been an error in judgement.

And so here she was, shivering under the gaze of her tutor... as he lay fully naked in the middle of some sort of satanic ritual...

She gasped as his coal black eyes met hers.

 _His eyes! Just like the dream!_ she thought to herself.

He instructed her to step forward, and for reason beyond any sane and rational explanation, she could not find it within herself to disobey. She treaded carefully, trying her best to avoid any stray candles lest her white nightgown go up in flames.

She reached the perimeter of the circle of blood and wax that surrounded him. He encouraged her to continue, but something inside her hesitated.

"I understand you have reservations," he spoke, finally, yet his voice was much deeper than she remembered it ever being. "As you should. Frankly, I'd be alarmed if you didn't."

"It's important you understand the repercussions of what you are about to do. Once we are rejoined, there is no turning back. We can never part. Is this understood?"

Despite the fact she understood very little about the current situation, she found herself nodding her head and continuing forward into the circle.

As soon as her foot made contact with the cold flooring within the circle, the candles flickered harshly, as though they were agitated by her very presence.

He beckoned her forth to come sit on his lap and she complied, letting out a squeak of shock as she felt his bare member hard against her clothed heat.

"You are the pinnacle of temptation." He began pressing kisses to the skin above the neckline of her nightie. She ran her hands through his hair and tugged at the roots gently, eliciting a small moan from him. "You are loveliness incarnate!"

"You're everything I dreamed you would be." She replied with the sweetest of smiles. 

As lovely as his kisses were, she found herself needing more.

 _Much_  more.

What she needed was something no man had ever given her before.

Impatiently, she began to rub against his exposed thigh. With his strong hands on her hips, he guided her motions.

"That's it, sweetheart." He cooed as little gasps left her lips. "I want to taste you, all of you. I want to devour you, swallow you whole."

"I've... never done anything like this... is that okay?" She spoke in between moans.

"Of course it's okay, little lamb." He chuckled, darkly. "If anything, it's quite sexy; knowing that I'm the only man who gets to touch you, to see you like this-"

"Hmm, well..." She giggled as she suddenly remembered that unfortunate incident with Etu.

He ceased his actions to look her in the eye with a serious intent. "I'll take the life of any man who dares to look upon you."

"Oh sir, you say such wild things!" She gasped in delight as he launched an attack on her neck with his lips.

Her delight turned to trepidation as he produced a dagger, seemingly from nowhere.

"It is clear that I must mark you as my own."

Gently he laid her onto her back on the floor, her hair fanning out around her like a halo.

Initially she feared that he would  _literally_  mark her with his knife, but it soon transpired that he had a rather different idea.

He ran the blade up and down the front of her nightdress, teasingly. He did so love to watch her squirm. Then, with great swiftness and care, he slashed the garment open, exposing her bare breasts to him.

Momentairly delighting at the sight of her newly exposed flesh, he then pressed the blade to the same place on his left forearm he had slashed earlier for his ritual that, at some point since, had miraculously healed over.

"Sir...?"

He smiled at her display of concern for him, before gently shushing her.

He winced in pain as the cold steel pierced his flesh. The blood trickled down his arm like a crimson waterfall, dripping down onto his lover beneath him, staining her once pure skin red. Without a moment's pause, he slashed the other arm, and began to smear his blood all over her ripped clothing and naked body.

"You look so fucking beautiful like this, covered in my blood, covered in me." He said in a low, seductive voice, tossing the knife behind him and leaning down to run his tongue all over her blood-covered torso.

She knew she should've been disgusted, repulsed,  _horrified._  She knew that.

But she was far too aroused and excited to start questioning things now.

Both of them were so eager they considered foreplay to be an unessecary torture. His sexual hunger illustrated further by the way he impatiently tore away her underwear with his bare hands.

"Your name..." She groaned as he finally pushed himself inside her, not waiting a minute for her to adjust before he began his harsh thrusts. "Tell me your name."

As his speed increased, he found it harder and harder to speak.

"Tell me your name!" She harshly insisted, rolling her hips upward to match his movements.

His movements were becoming more and more sporadic; he was close, and so was she.

As she felt her orgasm approaching, small droplets of water marked the spot where Michael had buried his face in her neck; he was sobbing his way through their shared climax.

"Tell me..." She felt fireworks exploding deep within her, rippling through her whole body as Michael shuddered above her.

"Oh, Michael!" She screamed.

-

_"I am a slave of the infernal bridegroom, the phantasmagorian master; he who seduces the foolish virgins. That's exactly the devil he is. He's no phantom, he's no ghost. He was a child - or almost... His delicate mysterious ways enchanted me. I forewent all my duties in order to follow him._

_We are exiles from this world._

_Satan, you fool, you want to dissolve me with your charms. Well, I want it. I want it! Stab me with a pitchfork, sprinkle me with fire! Return me to life!_

_Oh, and this poison! This eternally accursed embrace! My weakness, and the world's cruelty! My god, have pity, hide me, I can't control myself at all! I am hidden, and I am not._

_And as the damned soul rises, so does the fire."_

_-Arthur Rimbaud, A season in hell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> author's note; i just realised this is the second time michael has taken prims virginty, what a guy lmao.


	10. chapter nine; river of tears.

"Y-you... you said my name." He swallowed thickly, his voice cutting through the heavy silence that had fallen in the aftermath of her outburst.

She merely nodded in response, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious around him again.

They were both still naked, though it was too dimly lit for either to see each other as many of the candles were now extinguished.

"Do you know your name?" Michael asked, tentatively.

She scoffed. "Primrose."

"I mean your last name." He impatiently retorted.

"It's Goode." She stood up within the circle with sudden defiance. "Primrose Goode."

"I can explain everything." He tried to place a comforting hand on her arm and was saddened to see her flinch.

"It's you... you're the leader... you murdered my parents." Primrose was now pacing around the room, the cogs turning in her mind, trying to process all the old and new information that was now rolling around her brain at a thousand miles per hour. She picked up her torn night dress and clumsily wrapped it around her body for some form of modesty.

"Please..." He reached out to touch her dress but she backed away, suspiciously. "Let me."

Hesitantly, she obliged. He ran his hands over the torn fabric and with his magic he willed the fibers back together.

"There," He said. "Good as new."

And then, with very little warning, she slapped him across the face.

_Hard._

"I gave myself to you, body and mind and soul." She seethed. "And you accepted me with blood-stained hands."

"Hey, let's get something straight here." He fired back as he conjured his clothes out of thin air. " _You_  threw yourself at  _me_. I tried to keep you away, even though it was killing me inside."

"I tried embracing it, the darkness within, and I ended up alone, with everyone I love dead. I just wanted to hide, to protect people from it, to cut it out like the cancerous tumour it is."

"I don't care! I've bedded my mother's killer!" Hot, angry tears were now falling freely from her eyes, and it was slowly destroying Michael to see her so upset, knowing that he was the reason why.

"That woman was not your mother, Cordelia was." Michael gripped her shoulders firmly, trying to keep her grounded as she became overwhelmed with memories and emotion.

"Okay, great. Anything else I should know?" She bitterly replied.

"You were pregnant." He spoke quietly and sadly.

"W-...what?"

"When you died," he cleared his throat. "You were pregnant with our child."

"Who am I?" She sobbed, collapsing into herself.

Michael caught her just before she fell and gathered her into his arms.

"You're Primrose, you're my Primrose." He cooed, stroking her hair gently to calm her down.

"Why did you do this..." She wept. "Why keep me underground all these years... alone and lost... fumbling for answers in the dark..."

"I was there, Primrose. I watched you grow like a wildflower among the weeds. When we spot a pretty flower, sometimes we have the desire to pick it. And that was a selfish desire I shamelessly indulged in. I ripped you out of the earth and then you died. You died because of me."

As her old life slowly returned to her living memory, she felt so much sorrow for all that was lost she thought she might cry a river of tears.

"I lost you and I couldn't bear it..." Michael began, his voice wavering with grief. "Without you, I lost my way. I was much too despaired to know what I was doing."

Primrose wanted to speak, but no words came out.

1,022,000 words in the English language and there was not a single one to describe how she felt.

"Let me show you something." Michael said, helping her up to her feet.

-

Michael transmuted them to the surface, above the compound and into the outside world, a place Primrose had never been before.

The earth was barren and burnt, the atmosphere heavy with radioactive fog.

Primrose saw the groaning figures in the distance and clung to Michael for safety.

"Are we quite safe up here?" She asked, alarm evident in her voice.

"Any normal person would soon perish out here, but as I've stated before... you and I are not normal." Michael clarified.

Primrose's attention then turned to the mysterious swirling shapes in the sky above. "What's wrong with the sky?"

"It's falling." He replied.

Returning her gaze to the far off people, she watched them stare up at the sun, completely transfixed, before falling to the ground, lifeless.

"I-i don't understand."

Michael paused before turning to look at her solemnly.

"The clocks have stopped." He said, simply.

"Yes, I noticed. Are we running out of power?"

Michael shook his head. "Virtually all clocks in the outpost are mechanical."

"But... then how...?"

"The clocks are wound with a key, and this tightens the spring inside. As it unwinds, its energy turns gears which cause the hands to move. It's our energy that powers them. But this energy transference is being intercepted by a greater force; the infinite cosmos." He paused to reflect for a moment, hands clasped behind his back. "The universe is sapping the energy from everything around us, our clocks, the sun, the unfortunate people above ground. It needs this energy to sustain itself because something is draining it... that something is us."

"Us?" She asked, incredulously.

"Us." He confirmed with a solemn nod of his head. "We are walking contradictions, a collective paradox. When you went back in time and died saving my life, you splintered the timeline. I should have no knowledge of you and yet I remembered every kiss, every touch, every precious moment. It put a strain on the universe, your re-entry into this world only served to deepen the wounds. This timeline is now collapsing in on itself in an attempt to fix it. Our very existence is a scar upon the earth. We can't stay here. The walls of the universe are weakening."

Primrose shut her eyes, wearily. "Michael, stop. I-i can't..."

Realizing that she had once again begun to cry, he gathered her in his arm again, vowing to protect her.

"It's okay, angel. Just go to sleep." He placed his hand on her forehead and muttered some vague incantation, and she felt the darkness descend upon her vision until she lost her grip on consciousness and fell into sweet oblivion.

-

Primrose awoke some hours later, safely in her own bed. For one sweet, blissful moment she did not remember everything that had occurred in the last 24 hours, and it was magical.

Magic.

Michael.

She shot up out of bed and yelped in surprise when she realized he was sat in her chair by the fire, watching her carefully.

"Hello." He said.

"Hi." She breathlessly replied.

"How are you feeling?" He politely enquired, as though they were merely acquaintances and not unearthly soulmates from another world.

"Like my entire life is a lie." She replied.

Michael recoiled slightly at her brutal honesty. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are, I can feel it. Eternal bond thingy, remember?" She deadpanned. "Where do we stand on that, by the way?"

Michael hesitated. "It... it was weakened when you were reborn not knowing who I am, but now that you're you again, I suspect it shall be in full effect once more... is that okay?"

She turned around, not wanting to face him. "Don't ask me how I feel about things neither one of us can change."

Through the reflection of her dressing table mirror, she could see his head fall into his hands with remorse. "I thought I was keeping you safe by binding you to me, and instead I've condemned you to countless lifetimes spent chained to the side of a heartless monster. If I had any sense at all, I wouldn't be here. I'd be far away, let you live out your new life in peace." He chastised himself.

"A peaceful state is going to be quite hard to attain now." She laughed, mirthlessly.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"For everything."

"I know."

Sighing, she turned toward the fireplace and sat cross-legged next to his chair, leaning against the velvety material wistfully. "But you were right though," Primrose said. "About... my parents. They weren't really my family. Cordelia is my true mother."

Unsure of how to respond, Michael simply laced his fingers through her hair, secretly delighting at the way she instinctively leaned into his touch.

_Just like old times._

He spoke quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You've been far from my eyes, but always near in my heart."

She moved to sit in between his legs and looked up at the pained expression on his face.

"I can't imagine a world without you by my side." He whispered.

His palm caressed the side of her face and shivered as she realized it had been 18 years since he'd last touched her like that.

"Is this why you let the new world fall to ruins?" She asked. "The people are very unhappy with their 'leader'."

"I succumbed to grief. Your face... it haunted me." He admitted, sadly. "You used to get this look in your eyes, like you felt desperately sorry for me... I see it now."

And it was true. She did pity him. It was illogical but true.

Despite all he'd done, Primrose knew that she had been the only person (bar Ms. Mead) who had ever truly known and loved him.

And she had died.

She had left him all alone.

"I still think you're the most beautiful soul that's ever graced this wretched earth."

And with this comment, suddenly Primrose remembered the precarious state of the earth.

"Oh Michael, what are we going to do?" She sighed into his breeches.

Michael took her small hands and held them within his larger ones.

"Not long ago, when I was still but a stranger to you, and you knew me only as sir... I asked you a question. I asked if you would believe me if I said we had met once before... Well, now I'm asking you to take that leap of faith again."

"The Earth is failing... it won't be long until the universe becomes so deficient in energy it simply eats itself. Now I don't know about you, but I'd like to avoid that. Now that you are returned to me, I have once more the spirit and passion of a younger man with a grander purpose; that dream I once had many years ago of a new world, a dominion for us to rule over, lovers in arms;  _king and queen_."

"There's another world where we're together, happy, United by a child. We could go there... for a price."

Primrose eyed him suspiciously; great things often come with greater consequences. "Which is?"

"This one sacrifice is all I ask, and in return I'll give you everything you've ever wished for... a family."


	11. chapter ten; danse macabre.

October 31st.

Day of the Halloween masquerade ball.

Her 18th birthday...

And possibly her last day on this earth.

Primrose stepped out of the elevator and into the main hall, which had been made over into a spectacular ballroom. Incredible gothic chandeliers hung from the ceiling, tall candelabras stood in each corner, illuminating the mask-clad faces of the elite in a warm glow. From the ceiling to the floor there hung red velvet curtains to drink or gossip behind (knowing these people, Prim thought, they might also be used for more salacious matters).

Primrose adjusted her mask and smoothed down the skirt of her elegant ballgown; she had decided to forgo her signature color of light blue and instead she was draped in a fine, blood red satin (it only occurred to her after getting dressed that she was adorned in Michael's favorite color).

Lost in her thoughts, Primrose jumped slightly as the band finished tuning and marched straight into the first song, a song she recognized as Danse Macabre, penned by Camille Saint-Saëns. The striking opening notes of the violin reverberated around the spacious hall, and immediately the floor was flooded with dancing couples.

She scanned the room for a familiar face and plucked a chalice of wine from the silver serving tray of a passing waiter. She sighed and swirled the red liquid around the glass, the aroma was sweet but with a hint of spice.

"May I have this dance?" Julien extended his hand out to Primrose, bashfully.

In keeping with the masquerade theme, Julien had come dressed as a nineteenth-century sea captain. He looked exceedingly debonair in his beige breeches and royal blue blazer, bedecked with antique-looking navy medals and matching golden epaulets. He completed his look with a white half-mask that only covered one side of his face.

Primrose tipped her head back and drank from her cup deeply for courage, and was about to accept Julien's offer until a firm hand grasped her arm and pulled her away.

"Terribly sorry, but I believe this dance is mine."

Prim didn't even need to turn around to know who's voice was demanding her participation in the waltz. Knowing there was no use in fighting him, Primrose mouthed a quiet 'sorry' to Julien, and allowed Michael to lead her to the center of the floor.

Michael placed his hand on the small of her back, pushing her closer towards him as they danced. Though she knew him to be a man of many talents, it did surprise her to find that he was, in fact, a very capable dancer. They caught the attention of the other guests as they waltzed and swayed gracefully to the music, everyone whispering and wondering who was this handsome, masked stranger that was dancing with the beautiful and equally mysterious Primrose Langdon. She closed her eyes and wished that they could be the charming, enviable couple that they appeared to be.

She wished that this was merely a dance between two lovers, and not the beginning of a very painful evening.

"I-i'm not sure I want to do this." She whispered into his ear.

"What? Dance?" He looked off into the distance over her shoulder, feigning obliviousness.

Primrose scoffed. "Don't play dumb, you know what I mean."

Michael sighed deeply; they had been over this. "We have no choice. We have to do this or we'll die."

The music gained pace, and the constant twirling was playing havoc with the butterflies in her stomach.

"Maybe it's time to die..."

Primrose gasped as his grip on her instantly tightened.

"Don't even say that. I refuse to lose you again."

She bristled at his sharp tone and tried to control the rising sea of conflicting emotions within her.

She loved Michael, and she did not want to die; of these two things, she was certain.

She was not certain, however, that these were justifiable motives for  _murder_.

"Look around you," Michael said quietly, lest anyone else listen into their private conversation. "Everyone here is going to die. Every single one. And it won't be peaceful, or kind. It won't be when they're old and ready for death. It'll be imminent and painful."

"But it's still murder!" She whispered, angrily.

"It's survival." He retorted.

"Needless, violent desecration of innocent flesh... it's barbaric."

He merely shrugged. "Survival often is."

He spun her around in time to the music with a precise, deft velocity. "Besides... only one offering must be innocent."

Michael looked around the room, his gaze upon the guests who were flirting with wild abandon, chortling over rich food and wine, sneering at anyone they deemed lesser than themselves.

"You have quite the task ahead, finding someone who fits that description." He darkly chuckled.

The song was at its climax now, the shrill, swirling crescendo of the violins ringing in her ears, almost drowning out their conversation.

"What you're asking of me... it goes against my very nature... I fear it may kill me."

"That is the entire point. We have to surrender who we are to my father in order to cross between worlds. This is the price. This is the point of no return." He hissed.

When the song finally ended, she was thankful for a reason to break apart from him and get some air. He let her go with very little resistance and accepted Juliet's offer to dance.

He looked down his nose at her derisively as she giggled childishly, batted her eyes and flirtatiously stroked the arm of his velvet dinner jacket.

While Juliet was overstepping her boundaries as a friend by openly fawning over her friend's tutor and object of desire, it was the least of Primrose's worries.

She turned on her heels and exited the main ballroom into one of the adjourning private rooms; she needed space and somewhere to clear her head.

She had opened the door no more than an inch when a voice inside alerted her to the presence of others in the room.

Initially, she was going to simply turn away and find an unoccupied space, that was until she caught a snippet of the conversation.

"You are the most useless of all my kids, you know that?"

"I'm sorry, Dad."

Primrose gasped; she knew that voice...


	12. chapter eleven; a moonless night.

She gently cracked the door open further to listen in on what they were saying.

"Women are fickle and weak-minded. They're easy to manipulate and control. It really shouldn't be this difficult for you to just fuck her, Julien!"

"Look, she obviously only has eyes for him. I've been trying to gain her affection for years, but she only sees me as a friend. I really don't think it's possible for me to use her to influence the leader."

Primrose felt her heart lurch with betrayal; her only friend for so many years wasn't really her friend at all. He only associated with her as a means of getting closer to Michael, to power.

She felt an inner darkness and rage that she had never felt before. How dare he treat her like this? Like she was no more than a simple pawn?

She recalled Michael's request's for their ritual;

**_"In order to travel between dimensions, we will need to sacrifice our very beings, our souls, the core of who we are. You, a woman of purity, must feast on the blackest heart on earth. I, a man of darker intentions, must ingest the noblest."_ **

_Well,_  Primrose thought to herself.  _If it's a black heart you want..._

She was about to make her presence known before Julien spoke again.

"Besides... I don't want to."

"Yeah, don't I know it." She heard Julien's father scoff. "It's all that time you spend with that servant boy, you've gone all... queer."

"I don't want to use her because she's a good person! I can't do it."

 _Oh,_  Primrose thought.  _Well that complicates things..._

Before Primrose could consider her options any further, she felt Michael's presence behind her.

"Well done, pet." He cooed into her ear, the sensation of her breath on the nape of her neck made her shiver. "You've found what we were looking for."

 _Oh no!_  She cursed herself internally.  _We're bonded, stupid! He knows everything I'm_   _thinking!_

Michael waved his hand in front of the door, using his magic to propel it open.

Both father and son took in his appearance with a look of sheer shock and terror etched upon their faces; Michael looked upon them as a predator might look upon his prey.

"Well, well." Michael sauntered over to them, hands clasped behind his back. "I dare say it's been an  _extremely_  long time since I last had the pleasure of your company, Jeff."

Jeff's brass colored bowl cut covered his eyes as he fell to his knees and bowed before him. "M-my lord, it's an honor to see you again." He said, nervously.

"Now, now. I think this will be easier on all of us if we agree not to lie to each other... don't you think?"

Jeff looked up at him, startled. "Why of course, my lord."

"Good." Michael grinned devilishly, before crouching down to look at the petrified Jeff on his level. "It's funny that we should unexpectedly reunite on tonight, of all nights. The night where my lover and I are in need of the blackest of hearts... know anyone who might fit that bill?"

Jeff cluelessly contemplated the question in his head, and while Primrose did not condone what Michael was about to do to this man she couldn't help but feel offended at his absolute stupidity.

"Well I mean, Sally from level 7 is kind of a bitc-"

Jeff was cut off by Michael's hand on his throat.

"I mean you, you mewling quim!"

"Dad!" Julien screamed with fear as he watched his father's face turn purple.

"Michael, please!" Primrose pleaded.

Michael relinquished his hold on Jeff at Prim's request, the man dropping to the floor with a dull thud.

Jeff sat up and rubbed the red marks on his neck as he struggled to regain his breath.

"And you," Primrose felt her heart hammering in her chest as his attention turned toward's Julien. "Like father like son." He said, mockingly.

Primrose stepped forward, trying her best to appear commanding and authoritative. "Leave him, Michael. He's not the one you need."

"No, you're quite right." Michael sighed. "He isn't the one _I_ need."

Primrose screamed as Michael grabbed Julien from behind, delighting in the way the young boy's body flailed against him in the most pathetic manner.

"He isn't the one I need because he feels remorse! An impossible feat for one with a black heart!" She desperately exclaimed, praying to whoever would listen that Michael wasn't so far gone that he would not listen to reason.

"He planned to fuck you, Prim. You really think I'm gonna let him live?" He laughed loudly and heartily, and it was the first time that Primrose had ever felt truly afraid of him.

She was slowly becoming paralyzed with fear and hopelessness, desperately searching her mind for a solution to this mess when she felt two strong arms grab her from behind.

"Let me go!" Primrose screamed.

"Not until your boyfriend drops the kid and agrees to negotiate." Jeff replied with his hand wrapped around her neck.

Michael glared at him, tilting his head and dropping Julien as though he were simply a bag of garbage, useless and in need of disposal.

Primrose winced at the sound of Julien's head cracking upon contact with the hard floor. She hoped that the fall was not fatal and he was merely unconscious.

"Okay, now... listen up, Langdon or princess gets it."

Primrose vaguely became aware of the cool metal of Jeff's dagger now pressed dangerously close to her throat. She considered using her magic to free herself, but alas, she was still untrained and any action taken at this precarious moment would have to be utterly precise. She wasn't even sure that Michael would be capable of it.

"You've had your turn playing the leader now for eighteen years, and what have you accomplished? Fucking nothing! It's time for you to step down, and let someone more capable take charge."

"Hmph," Michael scoffed. "I would, if I thought such a person existed."

"Hey, this isn't some joke!" Jeff raged, pressing the knife in slightly deeper to further illustrate his point. Michael's expression darkened as the tiniest drop of blood fell from Primrose's neck. "I'm demanding you to relinquish control immediately and go! Take your little harlot with you too!"

"Ah, poor little Jeff." Michael languidly fell backward into a plush, red velvet sofa. "Whoever said the meek would inherit the earth was wrong."

***Clunk!***

Primrose wriggled free from Jeff's grip as he fell the floor clutching the back of his head. Behind him stood Ms. Mead holding a brass candlestick.

"Ms. Mead! Excellent timing, as always. It would appear that you are the one variable his plan did not account for."

Ms Mead preened herself on Michael's praises. She then grabbed Jeff by the hair with one hand, the other hand detaching and revealing a concealed, robotic pistol, which she pressed against the back of his skull.

"Foolish mortal men, hiding behind science..."

***bang!***

"Magic will outlast them all."

The reverberating sound of the gunshot had woken up the unconscious Julien, his eyes widened at the sight of his dead father bleeding out onto the floor. Primrose's knees buckled as she fell to the ground and wept.

"He'd been 'pulling the strings' for years... for a while it was harmless enough to allow him to believe that he was the one calling the shots." Michael said casually, relaxing on the couch, twirling a lock of his golden hair around his finger. "He had his uses, but alas, every dog will have its day. That and he was truly the most awful man I've ever met. Me! Son of Satan!" He laughed. "I mean, I might be pure evil but at least I didn't orchestrate the world's demise over a cup of coffee."

Michael then jumped to his feet, motioning towards his faithful automaton.

"Ms. Mead, if you would do the honors; I do so hate getting my hands dirty."

They shared a knowing look before she approached Jeff's corpse and with her strong, mechanical arm, she plunged her fist into Jeff's chest.

Primrose knew what was coming and she felt immensely sick at the thought.

After wrestling the organ free from his flesh, she crouched down and thrust the heart into Prim's face.

"Eat." Michael commanded, his voice now several octaves lower than usual and his eyes once again blacker than a moonless night.

Primrose tried to drown out Julien's screams as she reluctantly bit down into the heart.

Immediately her mouth was filled with blood, and she gagged as her tongue came into contact with the still-warm human flesh. The meat was fatty and chewy, and Primrose struggled to swallow it down.

Michael had begun to chant in Latin, and Primrose's glassy eyes met Julien's, trying to convey her remorse with just a look. She hoped that he knew that she didn't want to do this, and that she was more conscience-stricken than she had ever been in her whole life.

Thankfully, a few bites is all Michael required.

"One down, one to go." He said in a sing-song voice.

"Okay, fine." She snapped at him. "I'll go get your other heart... so long as you let Julien go."

Michael quirked an eyebrow. "You know he will die at some point anyway."

"Not like this. Please." She begged.

Michael rolled his eyes and stepped to the other side to allow Primrose to go to him. She helped Julien get back on his feet, though he resisted at first but he was too distraught to put up much of a fight.

She had Julien's arms around her shoulder, halfway to the door, to freedom, when Michael stopped her.

"You have 15 minutes to find the purest heart here, and you must bring it to me so that I might devour it."

She nodded her head a little too quickly and left.

-

"Etu!" Primrose cried out with relief at the sight of the sweet servant boy going about his duties in her private quarters.

She had transmutated herself and Julien down to her bedroom on level 9 as soon as they were out of Michael's eyesight. The journey combined with recent events proved too much for Julien, as he leaned over to vomit into her wastepaper basket by the desk. Thinking back to what Michael had made her do, she almost followed suit, but she swallowed it down and persevered.

"Y-yes, Miss?" Etu replied.

"Boy, am I glad to see you!" She exclaimed, enveloping him in a tight hug, which he awkwardly returned.

Then she remembered why she was there in the first place. "You have to come with us. Now." She said, gravely. "It's an emergency."

Etu's eyes widened as he started to panic. "W-what's g-going on?"

Primrose hesitated as she pulled the two boys out into the hallway. "It's hard to explain."

"Her boyfriends the antichrist," Julien said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve as he finally finished heaving. "What's difficult about that?"

Etu's nerves got the better of him as he started to quake with fear.

Primrose glared at Julien. "You're not helping."

"You just ate my father's heart, I reserve the right to be bitchy!" He fired back at her.

Primrose's head fell into her hands with remorse. "I'm so sorry, Julien. I... had no choice."

Julien sighed. "No, I know you didn't... Besides... he was an asshole anyway. Not that that warrants bodily mutilation, but..."

"You don't have to forgive me, I know I don't deserve it." She furiously wiped her tears away with shame. "I just need you to trust me, so I can help you get out of here."

"And g-go where?" Etu asked.

"I don't know, but you're not safe here, not while Michael's around. Julien personally offended him by trying to woo me, and you Etu..." she stopped to look at this innocent soul, the poor sweet Etu. "You just have to trust me when I say you can't stay here."

She didn't have the strength to tell him why.

She could barely admit the truth to herself, it would be too dangerous anyway. While she was trying her hardest to suppress every thought and feeling, the bond was still going strong, so she had to act fast before Michael caught on and stopped her.

"So what are we gonna do? Where are gonna go?" Julien asked, impatiently.

Primrose tugged on her hair with frustration;  _think, damn it, think!_

"We could... we could steal some radiation suits! I'll take you to the surface and you could just run!" She hopelessly exclaimed.

"We'll die out there!" Julien objected.

"You  _might_  die if you leave, whereas you  _will_  die if you stay here." Primrose replied.

Julien rubbed at his eyes out of frustration. "Well, worm? Do you fancy our chances?" He wistfully smiled at the other boy, giving his shoulder a playful shove.

Etu blushed under the warm light of his smile and shrugged, unused to seeing the softer side of Julien.

They had reached the end of the corridor, with instructions from Primrose to go to level one and wait for her while she procured the radiation suits, when Julien had a sudden and terrible realization.

"Juliet! She's still up there!"


	13. chapter twelve; angels and demons.

Primrose's eyes desperately scanned the sea of survivors in search of her friend. Anyone Primrose had ever associated with was currently in extreme danger, including Juliet. She didn't want to give Michael the opportunity to use any of her friends as leverage to force her into his insane ritual.

Frankly, his behavior was worrying her. Not that it was peculiar for Michael to maim and murder, but there was always an end goal in sight. What was the goal of this ritual? Travel to a parallel world, and then what? Blow up that planet too?

Needless to say, the plan lacked longevity.

And Michael had always known that things like this were not in her nature, her opposition to evil misdeeds and acts of cruelty being one of the reasons why Michael had loved her in the first place. Should he force her into this ritual, she will no longer be the same soul he fell in love with, it would simply tear her apart.

Michael was just going to have to face the facts; he had failed.

He had brought about the apocalypse, the decimation of the whole world, and changed nothing. The greed, the wrath, the envy of the old world still lingered in this futile underground society he had forged.

He had been a mere pawn to his father, and to Jeff.

He had loved Prim and he had lost her, isolating himself for years afterward as a consequence.

And then it was time for Primrose to face the facts; Michael may or may not have gone insane.

Primrose tried her very hardest to suppress all these feelings, her doubt most of all, lest their bond alert him to her hesitation. But the feelings were so hard to fight.

There was a time when she would look at Michael and see him, *really* see him, as the misunderstood boy that he truly was. Now he is a man, and she isn't sure what to make of him. Is this creature truly misunderstood? Perhaps she is the one who has been mistaken.

She worries that he is too far gone, this destructor, this king of hell on Earth. She hates herself for it but she finds herself longing for the old Michael, *her* Michael. The delicate and tender prince with a dark side.

She wishes they could start over, be those two young souls in her mother's garden again.

As she grappled with this terrible realization, a familiar voice seeped through her daydreams and brought her back to reality.

_"I sense there's something in the wind..._

_...That feels like tragedy's at hand..."_

There was a reason Prim couldn't find Juliet in the crowd, and it was because she was actually on stage, crooning some sad love song with the orchestra behind her.

Primrose needed to get her off that stage and fast. Juliet was far too visible for Primrose's liking.

She needed a distraction, a reason to pull Juliet offstage, so that her sudden absence would not cause too much of a scene.

She focused all her concentration and her energy on the string section of the band, hoping that if she could harness her telekinetic powers to knock over some of the cellos and double basses behind Juliet, she could swoop in and save her, and then take her away for her safety, to level one to be with her brother. It was not watertight, but it was, at least, a plan. It would all depend upon the timing...

_"And though I'd like to stand by him..._

_...Can't shake this feeling that I have..._

_The worst is just around the bend..."_

A startled yelp escaped from Juliet's throat as the instruments behind her collided with the stage floor.

"What the hell, you guys?" She exclaimed furiously at the scrambling musicians trying to retrieve their instruments.

While Juliet was distractedly scolding the orchestra behind her, Primrose took her chance and grabbed her by the hand, pulling her offstage to perform transmutation out of public view.

"Prim, what's going on?" She cluelessly asked as she realized they were now on level one.

"There's no time to explain!" Julien exclaimed, throwing his arms around his sister in relief.

"He's right, we really don't have time." Primrose sighed. "Everyone follow me!"

Primrose led the pack through level one, all four of them running with reckless abandon, running for their lives. Every door they opened, every corner they turned they lived in fear that Michael would be there to apprehend them and foil their fledgling plan.

They were met with many guards on their way to the final layer of security before the surface. Primrose swept them away with the unleashed, primal force of her magic. Her desperation grew by the minute; he was coming, she could feel it.

Finally, they approached the final barrier. All that stood between them and the overground was a keycode protected door...

"It's been fifteen minutes, Prim."

...and Michael.

"Michael, y-you don't have to do this."

Primrose stood protectively in front of her friends, trying her best to appear strong and authoritative despite her glassy red eyes and shaking limbs.

"If you won't tell me who to sacrifice, then I'll just have to kill them all." Michael snarled.

With just the click of his fingers, he ended Juliet's life. Primrose heard the poor girl's neck snap from behind her, and the subsequent wails of grief from her brother, but she did not dare turn around and face the horror Michael was inflicting.

"Just give up." Primrose quietly begged.

She could see the conflict behind his eyes; perhaps part of him knew that this was all merely insanity, but sometimes that realization just isn't enough. Love and desperation are dangerous enough individually, but when the two are combined, the effects are devastating.

Michael raised his hand once more, fingers poised and ready to destroy the two friends she held most dear, when there was a sudden flash of light, and the door behind them flew open, knocking everybody over.

Through the blustering winds and blazing fulguration of the wasteland, emerged a powerful and otherworldly woman.

"A-are y-you an angel?" Etu asked, cowering behind Julien.

"No," She laughed quietly, her blonde hair billowing gently in the breeze as she approached them.

"I'm the supreme."

"Cordelia!" Michael exclaimed.

"Mom!" Primrose threw herself at her mother, Cordelia embraced her warmly in return.

"My dear, sweet Prim." Cordelia cried.

"How are you here?" Primrose asked in disbelief.

"You were dead." Michael seethed.

"It's Halloween," Cordelia smugly replied. "The one day the dead may walk the earth."

"Why are you here?" Primrose asked.

"I've been sent to put things right." Cordelia stepped forward to face Michael before continuing, "The flow of time has been perverted, and it has split this world in two. A temporal paradox is tearing the earth apart, and it's collapsing in on itself in an attempt to fix it. I've been sent here to heal the wounds of time. I must undo what shouldn't have been done."

The ground beneath them began to shake, cracks forming in the tiles of the floor. The earth was shaking and splintering; they didn't have much time left.

"Why is there a paradox? What's going on?" Julien panicked, completely baffled at the events that were unfolding.

"There is a reason why tempus infinitum is rarely performed," Cordelia said, gravely. "When Mallory went back into the past, she didn't save the timeline, she broke it. When she died, it should've been fixed, but with Prim's death on top, it tore a hole in the fabric of reality; universes started to collapse. The only way to fix it is to eliminate everyone that was involved in the spell. Mallory's already dead, but you two..."

"And we're supposed to come willingly?" Michael sneered.

" _You_  can go out screaming for all I care." Cordelia fired back.

"When we die, everything gets fixed?" Primrose asked, hopefully.

Cordelia nodded, solemnly.

With this confirmation, Primrose knew what she had to do.

Turning away from her mother, she used her magic to disarm Michael, his dagger flying into her grasp.

Michael's eyes widened as he realized what she was doing, but he was too slow to act.

Primrose plunged the knife into her own heart, all the air in her lungs escaping from her mouth in one sudden rush, her knees buckling beneath her as she fell to the floor.

Michael was behind her in an instant, catching her as she fell.

"Why! Why would you do that!" He yelled, furious tears now rolling down his face.

"Destruction is a form of creation, this is something I must accept." She meekly replied. "Because that's all this life is; destruction and creation."

"Don't worry, I've got you, love. I'm right here, sweetheart." He sobbed. "I'll just bring you back."

She weakly raised her hand to cup the side of his face, and he shivered at the contact. "Michael, you can't. You have to let go."

"I-i'm scared... don't want to leave you."

"You won't, okay? It's you and me, together, for always."

She pulled the knife out of her chest and handed it to Michael.

Knowing that his lover, his sole reason for being, was moments away from death, he accepted.

He pressed the blade against his throat, and with one swift motion, he unleashed a red waterfall, coating Primrose in the hot, crimson cascade.

And then the ground opened up,

and both angels and demons alike did weep.


	14. epilogue; the garden.

**_My dearest friend,_ **   
**_If you don't mind_ **   
**_I'd like to join you by your side..._ **

**_-_ **

Primrose giggled softly, running through the meadow as fast as her feet would carry her in order to evade capture by her pursuer. The soil was soft beneath her feet, the long grass tickling her arms as she swiftly passed on by. Her skin was radiant under the hazy exposure of the late afternoon sun.

When they died, the world above was restored once more; over eighteen years of suffering now nothing but a bad dream that only a few would remember. The cracks in the wall of the universe healed over, and the clocks turned back for good measure. The world just keeps on turning, and in the most stubborn fashion, life always seems to prevail. 

With his death, Michael's father decided to reassign his purpose. Michael's main calling in (after)life now was guiding souls through the various levels of hell, his being now completely tied to the underworld. This job, however, came with less burden and more benefits, such as the meadow, which was one of their favorite realms to play in.

**_*pop!*_ **

Sensing her would-be captor hot on her heels, she transmuted several paces ahead further into the glade.

"The thrill is in the chase, Michael!" She laughed over her shoulder, not paying attention to where she was going.

_***crack!*** _

She yelped as she ran directly into Michael, unaware he had transmuted before her.

"I think you'll find that the thrill is, in fact, in the capture." He smugly replied, using her moment of vulnerability as an opportunity to gather her small form in his strong arms.

She playfully struggled against his hold as he carried her away in the direction of a nearby lake.

"Let me go, you beast!" She yelled in mock protest.

"You want me to let you go?" He teased her as he reached the edge of the water.

Sensing where he was going with this, her protests soon became very serious.

"Michael, don't you dare." She warned him, but it was too late.

He unceremoniously released her from his grip, her body falling directly into the water below her with a substantial splash. Michael's laughter was barely audible over the sound of rushing water within her ears, her arms flailing about as her head resurfaced.

"You brute!" She gasped in indignation.

His head fell back with laughter, his hand clutching his stomach. With his eyes screwed shut, he did not notice her hand emerging from the lake.

"Hey!" He shrieked as she grabbed him by the ankle, pulling him into the water with her.

He struggled in the water momentarily before resurfacing, spluttering and choking on the water as he tried to regain his breath.

He eventually calmed down and turned to fix her with a glare; his clothes drenched and his once perfect hair now wet and slightly matter against his forehead.

She took in his disheveled state and merely laughed.

"Oh, this is funny to you?"

Prim rolled her eyes and pulled him closer to press wet kisses along the side of his neck. He felt her nipples hard against his chest through the wet, thin material of her dress. A shiver ran through his body; partly from arousal, partly from the temperature of the water.

"I'll show you funny!" He smirked, splashing her with water.

Michael laughed as she shrieked and retaliated, the pair of them soon thrashing about in the water playfully and laughing, completely without a care in the world.

"Well, this ain't too bad." A voice cuts through their moment of frivolity, and they both jump at the unexpected intrusion. "Not so different from being back home in Louisiana."

Primrose whips her head round to see who it is, and is greeted with the sight of Misty Day.

"Misty!" Primrose exclaimed, standing up in the water.

"Little Miss Prim." Misty warmly replied with a smile.

Primrose climbed out of the water and ran to greet her.

"How are you here? And why?" Primrose mumbled into the older witch's hair as she enveloped her in a hug.

"It's about your mom." Misty replied.

Primrose faltered slightly at the mention of her mother; she preferred not to think about her too much these days, the matter usually just left her quite melancholy.

Primrose frowned. "Is she okay?"

"No, she's not." Misty shook her head, sadly. "She's too depressed to eat, to sleep... she can't perform any of her duties as supreme without you."

"I wasn't even sure she'd remember me..." Primrose trailed off, sadly. 

"No one could ever forget you." Primrose felt Michael's hand resting on her shoulder and leaned into his comforting touch.

"She misses you terribly." Misty added.

"I miss her too." Prim quietly replied.

"Is that why you're here?" Michael coolly inquired.

Misty nodded solemnly and took Primrose's hands within her own. "I'm here to take your place."

Primrose gasped. "Y-you're what...?"

"You can't!" Michael exclaimed, subconsciously tightening his grip on his lover's shoulder.

Misty fixed him with a defiant stare. "I've already negotiated it with Papa Legba, and your daddy too. Primrose can go home to her mom for the entirety of spring, so long as I'm around to serve in her place in the meantime."

"So... I get to spend spring with my mother and the rest of the year with Michael?" Primrose asked, the hope and excitement evident in her voice.

"You would do that for me?"

"I'd do it for your mother." Misty replied.

Primrose hesitated as she realized that seeing her mother would mean leaving Michael, even if it was only for the spring. Now that they were dead, so was their bond, but she didn't need magic to tell her that Michael was upset at the prospect of being alone for months at a time.

"I can't." Primrose hung her head, sadly.

"Go." Michael spoke quietly from behind her.

Primrose turned to face him to make sure she'd heard him correctly.

"I don't have to." Primrose said.

"Yes, you do. You miss the sunlight on your face, the real sun, and you miss your mother, I know you do. I never really had that much of a life on Earth, but I know that you did."

Coming from the man who once destroyed an entire plane of existence to avoid letting her go, Primrose felt immeasurably touched at Michael's gesture.

"Michael..." Primrose tearfully embraced him.

"Besides," Michael said. "Who am I to deny a goddess what she wants?"

"I'll come back, I promise."

"I know you will."

-

**_Where we could gaze into the stars_ **   
**_And sit together now and forever_ **   
**_For it is plain as anyone could see..._ **

**_We're simply meant to be_ ** **_._ **

THE END. 


End file.
